


Raptiphobia

by pumpkinperson



Series: Do You Have A Moment To Talk About Our Lord And Savior, Captain Hawthorne? [1]
Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experience, Nightmares, Smoking, Strong Language, Violence, before "the empty man", this has a lot of angst my guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinperson/pseuds/pumpkinperson
Summary: Spacer's Choice has found a flaw! Raptiphobia and hopeless romantic! -1 to all coherent trains of thought or reasonable actions when around Vicar Max.
Relationships: The Captain/Maximillian DeSoto
Series: Do You Have A Moment To Talk About Our Lord And Savior, Captain Hawthorne? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727008
Comments: 16
Kudos: 66





	1. Home Is Where The Monsters Are

She was done. Abso-fucking-lutely done with this stupid fucking moon and its stupid fucking monsters and the stupid--

 _“Fucking rocks!_ I swear to whoever is in charge of this galaxy if I step on _one more_ rock we’re going back to the ship! To hell with the Iconoclasts and the MSI or whatever damned errand we’re doing!”

The captain lifted her scantily clad boot and rubbed it, massaging the offended muscle with her hands. She could hear Nyoka chuckling in the background, which only drove her frustration higher. Monarch was quickly becoming Alex’s least favorite of all the hunks of rock in space, and she had heard the stories about Tartarus. Staying in a two by two cell had to be better than fighting two mantiqueens and countless mantiswarms.

“Just hope marauders don’t hear you screamin’ and hollerin’. Or better yet, raptidons,” Nyoka said, coming up from behind and side-eyeing Alex. She crossed her arms with a smirk dancing on her lips, and looked out to the landscape beyond.

“Look, I can handle mindless thugs taking pot-shots at me, or even raptidons and their acid. But these rocks? It’s like they were _made_ to fuck with me, like they all had a big party and said ‘you know what would be fun? Let’s jam ourselves up the captain’s feet all damn day, that’ll be a big ole laugh’.”

Alex set her foot, albeit very gently, on the ground, and looked for her other companion. The vicar had been unusually quiet, and she half expected him to say that pointy rocks were all part of the Great Big Plan, but he remained quiet. He seemed more keen on focusing his attention to the sulfur pits, and the road, looking for any signs of danger. 

She sighed. Of course, they were looking out for things that go bump in the day. That’s what she oughta do too, instead of yelling about the terrain. Alex was just growing tired, they hadn’t gone back to the ship for weeks now, running between settlements and facing down things three times their size. She was just… tired. 

“Alright. Let’s move. Sooner we get to the outpost, sooner we can head back to the ship and have ourselves a nice long night of drinking, yeah?”

Nyoka shouldered her hammer and grinned, “Now you’re talkin’ my language, Cap.”

The brightly colored bob swayed as Nyoka walked along the pathway, taking the lead. Max came up on Alex’s left and paused, silently waiting for the captain’s instruction. 

“You take the middle, Max, I’ll watch your back.”

The vicar lingered for a couple of moments longer, pulling his gaze away from the horizon and instead resting it on her face. “Are you sure you're alright?”

“Yeah, those rocks won’t get the better of me, I promise,” she tossed him a sly, if weak, smile.

“No. I meant if you were alright in general. You seem worn out, if you don’t mind my forwardness,” his voice was low, rumbling and deep.

The timber of his voice combined with the look in his eyes, gave Alex reason to hesitate. The genuine concern, the slight frown worn into his cheeks. The soft tilt of his eyebrows. It was so sensitive, so… unfamiliar. 

It was seconds, tens of seconds, maybe even a whole minute, before Alex realized he wanted a different answer to his question. “Oh, yeah… yeah, no, I’m good. We’ll get this done, and we’ll all take a break back on the ship.”

Max let his eyes rest on hers for a few more moments before nodding gently and followed Nyoka.

It was weird. Weird to Alex, anyway. Somebody looking at her like that. It had been a very, very long time since someone looked at her like...

_Don't think about it._

Alex hadn’t moved. She glanced back down at the rock that had stabbed her in the foot before. It shouldn’t even classify as a rock, really, more like a thorn. Honestly, what kind of planet has this kind of terrain?

Monarch does. Lawforsaken Monarch.

It was easier to think about Monarch and all the things that are left to be desired regarding it, than it was to think about Max. Thinking about him left Alex with thoughts that she wasn’t sure how to process, feelings rooted deep in the pits of her stomach, warmth and tingling sensations flowing through her arms, legs, and --

_The rocks. Think about rocks, and mantiswarms, and how there are actual, living cannibals here._

She was still in the same spot Max had left her, and he and Nyoka had gained some distance, so she started walking and stepped a little faster each time to catch up. She kept Max’s back as her marker, and focusing on it made it more difficult to not contemplate the thoughts that fogged her mind. Did he care? At the beginning she hadn’t been sure if they would get along, but since then they’d had late nights together, shared conversations about the idea of religion, and just talked. Talked about anything and everything, and the sarcastic and somewhat judgemental face of the vicar gave way to something more realized… someone with doubts, with hardships, with muscles that could lift her and hold her against the wall --

_For fuck’s sake, get a hold of yourself. He wouldn’t feel the same way._

Although, there had been a few times when she caught him looking at her with an expression she hadn’t fully recognized, a mixture of warmth and fondness and just thinking about it now, Alex felt heat flush her cheeks.

She was completely engrossed in her thoughts, fantasies and scenarios being played out then dashed with a dose of reality. The only thing she could focus on was the vicar’s back clothed in blue, the vestment rippling in the wind not too far ahead of her. Her exhausted mind didn’t allow for focus on much else. Her senses were dulled to the point Alex didn’t hear the unmistakable sound of claws clattering against the pavement, and the hissing of acid that accompanied it.

She didn’t notice anything until a roar erupted from behind her, territorial and deafening.

“Fuck!”

The raptidon sprinted, giant talons drawing near as Alex scrambled to unholster her rifle. It screamed again, acidic pools dripping from its mouth and spraying the ground in front of it. The creature was getting closer, and the rifle was still holstered, and Alex prayed to anyone listening that she would get the fucking gun out before the colossus was on top of her.

She could hear gunfire from behind, her crew saying something, but the words were drowned out by another roar from the creature as it pounced, lashing out its monstrous talons at her arm, just as Alex had gotten her rifle out. It skittered across the road, useless and leaving her defenseless.

She tried to back away, but it leapt again, this time dragging her to the ground and knocking the wind from her lungs. The impact of the fall was heard, something cracking inside her body and her muscles went into shock from the sheer amount of pain it was in.

A strangled gasp managed to escape her throat and Alex stared into the depths of the fanged mouth before her, acid leaking from every tooth and dropping onto her skin. The stench of burning flesh overtook the smell of sulfur, and the eyes of the raptidon were ravenous as they surveyed its prey. Alex knew what was going to happen before it did, hopeless despair overcoming her. Jaws clamped down on her shoulder, teeth digging into her tendons, her muscles, her nerves. She found the air to scream, a guttural cry coming from deep in her throat, and it gripped her body tight, pulling away bits of flesh and shreds of armor in the crevices of its jaw. Her hands clenched into fists and gravel pressed into her skin, she needed something, anything to stop the pain, stop the creature.

Nothing was found.

The raptidon bit down and latched onto her stomach, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her abdomen. It lifted Alex up, the muscles in her body tearing at the puncture sites, and shook her, before tossing her aside on the other end of the road.

She was broken. The raptidon turned its attention to the people firing at it, but Alex could barely keep a hold of her conscious, blackness fading in and out and always at the edges of her vision.

In a twisted sense of irony, she could see her gun now, when she couldn’t move any of her muscles, or even have the strength to pull the trigger. 

It was hard to stay awake. Objectively, she knew she was losing a lot of blood. Raptidons have big mouths, lots of teeth, and she only had so much blood. And - objectively - she should stay awake, considering how much blood she was losing. But why think objectively, when it was incredibly easier to fall asleep? Her eyes struggled to stay open, and she coughed up something that ran down her lips.

“Captain? Please, Captain, stay with us.”

_Max? Everything hurts. It hurts so much. I can't - I can't breathe._

She felt a warm and calloused hand touch her cheek, and the voice she knew so well. “You need to stay with me, okay?” _Please keep holding me._

Her vision was blurry, but she knew his face as well as his voice. There was concern. Desperation. Worry. Something else, too. _It’s not your fault, Max. You didn’t know._

Her eyelids were too heavy, and she couldn’t resist the temptation anymore.

She let the void take her.


	2. That's A Lot Of Blood!

_“I realize I don’t know a lot about you, Captain. You never come by and seek advice or counsel on things troubling you, you simply ask me questions about myself.”_

_The view of her back hadn’t changed in the past few minutes, the muscles underneath her tank top shifting as she stirred a spoon around in her mug. It was done unconsciously, Max presumed, an action taken while she stirred her thoughts._

_She was quiet for moments afterwards, the only sound to be heard was the clinking of her spoon and the hum of the ship._

_“What’s wrong with getting to know my crew?”_

_Max looked down at his own mug, the tea she offered him now gone cold and untouched. “Nothing at all. I was just thinking maybe there was something you’d like to discuss.”_

_The captain turned around, holding the mug in both her hands, the spoon still inside. She rested her back on the countertop behind her, and when Max turned his gaze to her again he found her looking at him with genuine contemplation on her face. In her eyes there was something else, a very well hidden trace of fear. Max knew the emotion all too well, a feeling he had seen often in his years as a vicar. But it was not one he associated with the captain, and when he found it swimming in her eyes, he hesitated._

_“It was only a passing thought. It’s not my place to pry, only to be here if you wish to talk.”_

* * *

The road was colored red, and the stench of sulfur was tainted with the rusty, metallic smell of blood. There was too much of it, pooling around her, leaving her body faster in as many seconds it took to get to her.

Fear was a common emotion. A natural response to certain situations, but it was an emotion, and Max’s teachings stated not to be governed by them, to listen to reason and logic. As he laid a hand on her blood covered cheek, however, he couldn’t help but to feel his fear increase tenfold when he saw her eyelids flutter and glaze over. Her lips were parted, like she wanted to say something, but the strength left her, even when he pleaded with her to stay with him, stay awake.

She gave in, and Max felt something inside him collapse, his stomach twisted into knots at the prospect of what was to come. There was no reason or logic in his mind, it was impossible to find as he looked at his captain laying in a pool of her own blood, armor shredded, skin and muscle exposed. It was fucking impossible to interpret how this fit into the Plan, what "reason" would have him do in this situation, and he was plagued with anger flooding his veins.

One hand held her face, and his other went to her wrist, thumb shifting until he found a very faint, a very weak pulse.

_Still alive._

“Max.”

A voice from beside him, the tone of it firm yet asking. Drowned by the thoughts running through his mind, the sight in front of him above all else. Her eyes were closed, and his hand still rested on her pale and hollow cheek.

“Max, we have to get her help.”

“Give me the adreno and bandages,” Max said softly, something getting caught in his throat as he spoke. He sounded choked, his voice unlike his own.

His eyes never left her, the passing of supplies done without thought, and he went to work on cleaning the wounds spread across her body. It was gut wrenching, seeing the damage done. The gashes across her chest, the rips and tears and teeth punctures deep into her skin. Her clothing was stained red, the life draining from her body in quick work. Max had seen many injuries from his time in prison, but none like this. None on anyone he cared for.

“She needs more than this,” Nyoka said, helping him remove the armor that was blocking unseen wounds.

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” 

Emotion dictating his response again. Nyoka had done nothing wrong, his anger mistakenly directed at her. He took a moment to breathe, to realign his thoughts. It wasn’t her fault his captain lay on the ground, suffering. It was his.

“I’m sorry.”

Nyoka was quiet. They worked together to help their captain, injecting adreno and wrapping what wounds they could with the gauze they had. Nyoka had more medical experience than Max did, and it weighed on his mind that she didn’t feel capable of handling the captain’s injuries. They needed more supplies, a stable environment, literally everything else than what they had to work with right now.

“We need to get her to the ship, so Ellie can look at her. She needs stitches, proper disinfectant, a place to recover. A helluva lot more adreno,” Nyoka said, pulling a rag from her pack and wiping the blood off her hands. “It’s too far of a trip for her to take, though. She shouldn’t be moved, else she’s gonna end up losing even more of her blood and that won’t be good.”

Max looked at his captain. Bandaged, unconscious, dying. His stomach had not untied itself, and his heart followed suit, almost wrenching itself out of his chest. This was his fault.

“I’ll stay with her. You go to the ship, get ADA to land here,” the words were difficult to say, his throat dry.

“Are you sure? It won’t be easy, there's not much food or water left.”

“Then travel quickly.”

* * *

_She shifted her feet in response, contemplation turning into doubt. The fear had not left her eyes, and Max could curse himself for being the one to cause it. He liked their talks together, he liked the debates, the questions, the stories he told. But every time he told her something new, he wished to know more about her. She was intriguing, an air of mystery surrounding the captain. He could compare her to an adventure serial, a beautiful and beloved captain with a group of misfits trekking across the colony in search for salvation. But wanting to know more about her did not excuse causing fear._

_She stepped away from the countertop, her mug still in her hands, and went to sit down at the table, opposite from him. She looked at the full cup of cold tea in front of him, and took a sip from hers, holding the spoon inside at bay with her fingers._

_“You don’t like tea?”_

_Another question about him. Was it deflection?_

_“I do. In all honesty, I had forgotten about it,” he responded, his tone warm and amicable. He moved the mug around, pointing the handle in the other direction absentmindedly. It was difficult to remind himself to not look at her for too long at a time, the perfect curvature of her cheekbones and pinkish tint on her nose distracting him._

_She was quiet again. He wanted to look in her eyes, to see if the fear and doubt dissipated, but caught himself from doing so. It may serve to further unease her, and that was the very last thing he wanted._

_When she spoke again, her words were small and stilted._

_“I… I guess it won’t hurt.”_

_He looked up. She had set her mug on the table and was now rubbing a recent burn on her hand, caused by trying to repair a broken rifle in the middle of a firefight. It had jammed and backfired on her, and a raised welt now scarred her left hand. Her fingers circled it, small and delicate and pale, dirt underneath her nails, but perfect nonetheless._

_“What won’t?” he asked, and he saw the fear overwhelm the doubt, anxiety washing over her face. “If you don’t wish to talk about it, please don’t feel obliged to.”_

_He was at her command, and whatever desire she had, he would be damned if he didn’t fulfill it._

* * *

The light from the sky was receding behind the horizon of the treacherous terrain, the only source of illumination was from the planet the moon orbited.

Max had found a cave carved into a wall of rock, small enough for just two people, but deep enough to shield their existence from the wildlife outside. It wasn’t too far from where Nyoka had left them, close enough to hear the Unreliable’s engines when they came. Water dripped ever so often from the roof of the cave, small, pointed rocks scattered across the ceiling. A moment of forgetfulness, and Max thought about how the captain would’ve complained, as the rocks appeared on the ground too.

A stark reminder of reality hit him when he looked at her. They didn't have enough clean rags to wash all the blood away, and even still, red seeped through the fresh bandages. He felt hopeless. There was little he could do, short of giving her more adreno but they needed it to last - it was unclear how long Nyoka would be gone - and the supply was already dwindling.

Max reached for her left hand, and among the other wounds on her arm, one stood out to him, carrying a memory he held close. A moment where the captain let herself become vulnerable. He found the burn scar on her hand, and gently ran his thumb over it, the welt no longer raised but rough compared to the rest of her skin. He mimicked the circular motion he saw her doing in times of stress, and hoped it helped her as much as it did him. It was a small hope, considering everything else, but Max clung to it.

She had looked so exhausted earlier. Days of running from one township to another, picking up things and fighting beasts along the way. When she accomplished one errand, another would crop up begging for her attention. Max knew she hadn’t gotten a proper night of rest. When they were camping and he was on watch, she would have fits in her sleep. Pain overtook her face, brow furrowed and hands held in fists so tight, her knuckles whitened.

At times, her sleep was quiet. It comforted him, knowing she was at least dreamless in her attempt to rest. Those moments did not last long, however, her eyes would snap open and her lips would part as the air in her lungs was held in suspension. Those moments hurt him. 

They hurt even more so now, looking at her frail body and the toll it had gone through. He knew she was tired. He knew she wanted to go back to the ship. But she pushed forward because someone needed her, and no one was looking out for her.

 _“I’ll watch your back,”_ she had said to him. 

_I should’ve been watching yours._


	3. Well, That's Not Very Vicarly

_“Well, I mean, I haven’t talked much about myself to anyone. Phineas asks questions, obviously, but they’re mainly just weird and… personal. Like if I’m dripping. What does that even mean?”_

_Her gaze was averted while she talked, still circling the burn on her hand with her fingertips. The anxiety in her face was less now, however, and Max was grateful._

_He offered a smile, and a slightly raised eyebrow. “I think it means you might be dripping. Are you?”_

_She groaned and rolled her eyes, but she was more at ease doing that than she had been all night. “Not you, too.”_

_“Apologies, Captain,” he said, his smile drifting into a smirk._

_Her brows furrowed and she looked into the hallway, her gaze becoming clouded and her eyes darkening. “Am I? Am I really a captain?”_

_Max's smile faded. He rested his elbows on the table and folded his hands together. Something dark washed over her, all but hiding the pink tint of her cheeks and nose. Something was troubling her._

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I - I don’t know what I’m doing, Max. And that scares me. I don’t know anything, I was thrust into this without any choice of my own and yet I’m the one holding all the cards. I don’t even know what the cards I’m holding are.”_

* * *

It had been days since Nyoka left.

The captain was getting worse. There was no more food, no more water, and just a few doses of adreno left.

Max checked on her wounds frequently, looking for signs of improvement, signs of infection. Almost all of the open gashes in her stomach had red streaks running from it, inching away from the site of the injury. Max didn’t need medical knowledge to know it was bad.

Her breathing became more shallow, the rises and dips in her chest barely registering to his eye. It had gotten to the point he needed to hold his hand in front of her lips to check on her breathing, and every time he did so, his soul was crushed just a little bit more.

The hope he did have was chipped away, whittled into something almost non-existent. The color in her face was gone, dark circles appearing under her closed eyes and skin tight on her gaunt cheeks. Sweat beaded on her forehead and trailed into her hair, but her skin was clammy and cold. 

It hurt. It _fucking hurt_ to see her like this.

It hurt even more to think this wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to be the only one who could save the colonists of Halcyon, the trust of others binding her into a plethora of things she never planned to do. Including his own goals, the whole reason he joined her crew in the first place.

She had an unbelievably kind personality, and he was taking advantage of it. He knew when she first walked into his church, that she was naive and young enough to agree to his mission. He knew she would accept, and he knew there was a possibility of her getting taken down by marauders. Despite how fascinated he was with her, the Plan was more important. Anything to find the book and provide a new insight on something that had remained stagnant for decades.

What a fucking asshole he’d been.

She was willing to risk her life on his behalf, and then he had the nerve to lie to her for his own gain once she proved successful. He had doubted her in the beginning, and yet she showed him time and time again that she only wanted to help, no matter the cost.

The world eats kind people like her. And he was one of the ones that helped it.

Max looked at her, and lifted a rag to her forehead, wiping away the perspiration. Her temperature had lowered even further from the last time he checked. His other hand held her small one, running his thumb along the length of her scar.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, with no hope of her hearing him.

* * *

_He listened. It was what he did best._

_The finger encircling the burn began to shake slightly, and the color came back to her face with newly found force. Red painted her cheeks and nose, and her eyes glistened, still refusing to look at Max._

_“I want to help, because it’s the right thing to do. There’s people out there that need help, and I can do it, but --” she paused, swallowing. She pressed on her burn with her fingertip, holding it until she winced and let go. The blood drained from the skin where she pressed then returned._

_“But what if I’m wrong? What if I help the wrong people, or do the wrong things? What if I’m just the wrong person for this?”_

_That’s when she looked at him, and by_ _Law, he had never seen anything like her. She bit on her bottom lip, soft and supple skin red where her teeth pressed. Her eyes held tears not quite ready to leave, making the green of her eyes shimmer in the light of the kitchen. Hair fell around her face, a mess, a beautiful mess he would’ve killed to run his hands through._

_It was the expression on her face that stopped him from continuing that train of thought. She was scared, worried, and most of all, looking to him for answers._

_He lowered his head. He knew what he would’ve told another colonist, someone in Edgewater or in the prison. Something about how it was all a part of the Plan. That everything happens just so they can fit into it, and the inner workings of the Plan is something to be trusted without hesitation. That work fortifies existence._

_But that wasn’t what he wanted to tell her. For the first time in a long time, he provided counsel outside of the teachings he had known his entire life._

_“Morality is a subject often discussed in my line of work. Many people, patrons and counselors alike all share different opinions on what it means to be ethical and just. I, myself, have a hard time separating the gray from the black and white," he said, watching her eyes flit back and forth from the table to him._ _"I can tell you this, however. People who do the wrong thing, don’t stop to ask themselves if they are. It doesn’t matter if you’re the wrong person. Follow what you think is right and trust in yourself. Help when you can. Take a break when you can’t. No one can ask anymore of you.”_

_He paused briefly, her eyes now focused on the mug in front of her. “And for whatever it’s worth, I think you’re damn near perfect. You’ve done more than I could ever hope to achieve.”_

_Max saw the red tint spread to her neck and deepen in her cheeks. She didn’t say anything in response, but finally, the fear and anxiety lifted from her eyes and he was content._

_“I think your tea has grown cold, Captain.”_

_She smiled and bit her lip, still looking into her mug, but her eyes held more warmth than he'd seen in the past few days. “Just, um… just call me Alex.”_

* * *

Another day had gone by with no sign of Nyoka or the ship. The situation was growing desperate, and a rational man may have ventured outside in search of food and water, but Max was not that man right now. His only focus was tending to his captain, supplying her with adreno and making sure she was warm.

The darkness of the moon crept its way into the cave, the light from the planet dimmer than it once had been. She was still beautiful in this light, even with her bandages and wounds. It was hard to take that beauty away, because it was something from within her. Max didn’t know of it until boarding her ship, but now that he was aware, it was impossible to imagine her any other way.

If they made it through this, if the Unreliable did make it in time, he thought of what he might say to her. Perhaps he would confess his lies, even if it meant being kicked off the ship. She didn’t deserve it, and he certainly didn’t deserve her. She was too good of a person, and he would only serve to darken her world view.

Perhaps he would just leave on his own volition when he knew she was safe.

 _No, I couldn’t leave without an explanation._ Either way, he couldn’t face Chaney. He wouldn’t be able to control his rage if he met the man in person. He was too familiar with his inclination towards “violent enthusiasm”, a phrase he once mentioned to the captain, but one he didn’t wish for her to actually see.

Max sat in his thoughts, pondering over what he would do when he heard a sound that didn’t belong. A faint buzzing resonating inside the cave, a sound getting louder by the second. He looked behind him and saw the source - multiple hoards of tiny black bugs blocking the light into the cave.

_No._

It had been days since they first came here, not one sign of wildlife was heard outside the entrance. Why did they come now? Did the Architect have a sick sense of humor? Did it know she was close to death and decided to bring about her fate prematurely?

It didn't matter.

_I will not let you end her life when she has fought so hard._

Max reached for his shotgun and stood up, his eyes narrowing in determination and a murderous haze clouding his perception.

He cocked it, the sound drawing the mantiswarms closer, and he fired while walking towards them in slow, deliberate steps. They dispersed for a moment, then regrouped, and a ball of red liquid fire was shot at him. Max felt the burn on his arms but it was second in his mind. He fired again and kept walking, trying to draw their attention away from her.

_Don’t you fucking dare try to take her away._

Max emptied his clip into the swarm, and one by one they dropped to the floor. He reloaded, and knew he had to go outside, for the swarms meant something more sinister lurked in the night. He looked back at the captain, skin too pale, wounds too red, breathing too shallow. A longing grew in his heart to hold her hand one last time, but he turned away and faced the dark entrance to the dangers beyond. 

The light from the sulfur pits enveloped him as he walked out of the cave, the smell stinging his nose. He ignored it and looked for the mantiswarms’ counterpart, his shotgun ready in his hands.

It was closer than he anticipated, already alerted by the sound of his gunfire. The vague silhouette of a towering creature loomed against the planet's light in the sky, and Max inhaled, his lungs expanding with the rotten air.

Max cocked his shotgun and aimed for the massive jaw of the mantiqueen. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply once more. It was not lost on him what he was about to do. One man taking on a mantiqueen? It was unheard of, and for the right reasons. But Max was not a rational man right now, and a violently desperate need to keep his captain safe was all he needed.

He opened his eyes and fired.


	4. Smoke 'Em If You Got 'Em

_Ohhhhhh, that hurts. Dear Law, that really fucking hurts. What is that?_

Something cold and wet was being smeared over his ribcage. A haze settled in his mind, blocking all memories of nights before. He tried to focus on the sounds around him, the scents, and -- _oh, fuck, it’s on my arms now, why is it so damned cold?_

“Stay still, you insufferable man.”

_I - what? Ellie?_

“I know it burns, but you’re gonna feel worlds better after I get this on.”

He tried to blink his eyes open, but the fog refused to leave and all he saw was a very blurry face and red hair. Max inhaled, the air tasting mechanical and stale.

Vague lines began to take form, outlining the metal, gray walls surrounding him. Ellie and her stark white jacket, eyes narrowed and mouth drawn tight in concentration. A workbench opposite from him, crates and shelves overflowing with scrap and tools. He was on the ship. He was in the cargo hold, and fragments of what had happened came back to him in sharp, sudden detail. The dark sky of Monarch, a treacherous terrain, and a creature whose exoskeleton glinted in the light of green sulfur pools.

Max searched for more memories as a deep sense of fear took root in his stomach, but was interrupted by Ellie slathering on more of the wretched cream on his bicep.

“What - in the Architect’s name - is that?” his words were halted, his voice hoarse. He licked his chapped lips and grimaced, the cold stinging where she applied it.

Ellie paused in her work and looked at him, an eyebrow raised. She grabbed a bottle off the ground and held it up, one palm supporting the bottom and the other holding the backside of it in a fashion closely resembling advertisements. She smiled, a grin too big and unnatural for her.

“Why, don’t you know? This is Auntie Cleo’s Auntie-Biotics Creme, better than nature!” she chirped, false cheerfulness dripping from her words. 

She seemed disgusted at her own display and unceremoniously dropped the bottle back onto the floor before continuing her work on his arm. “It’s going to prevent irritation on your injuries and minimize the scarring. It’s one of the few medical supplies we have left, we’ll need to head to Groundbreaker for more once everything gets back to normal.”

Max cleared his throat, still unclear as to why he was here. “Back to normal?”

Ellie looked up again, this time with concern. “Well, it didn’t look like you had a concussion. No trauma to the head…” she placed a hand in his hair and gripped it, turning his head to look at the back, “no cuts, no bumps, no bruises.”

“This is ridiculous, I don’t have a _concussion_. Stop pulling my hair, it's completely - _ow_ \- unnecessary.”

The hold she had on his head was released and she stood up, wiping the remaining lotion off her fingers with a rag. “And there’s the vicar we all know and love. Or just know, maybe not love.”

She went over to the bench nearby and sifted through her bag. Max was still unable to retrieve the memory that caused the fear in his gut, unease settling in the deepest parts of his mind.

Ellie pulled out a wound roll of gauze, and reached her other hand back in the bag, looking intently at the contents inside. She broke the silence nonchalantly, as if the thought just came into her head to say something.

“She’s fine, in case you were wondering.”

Something in Max stirred, and he sat up, gripping the edge of the cot to help support himself. He winced again, the muscles in his abdomen and arms sore beyond anything he had experienced in his recent years.

“It was touch and go for a while. She hasn’t woken up yet, but that’s normal considering the trauma her body’s been through.”

It came back. It all came back at once; the cave, his captain laying on the ground with seeping bandages and infected wounds. Her shallow breath, his overwhelming desire to keep her safe. Every single thing that had happened in the past few days came back to him in vivid and heartbreaking images.

“You could thank me, you know. I know you have to hold up this reputation of being a grumpy hardass, but I’ve definitely earned my keep fixing you guys. I would even accept an “I owe you one”, cause honestly - hey, where are you going? I need to wrap your burns!”

Max’s vision was still fuzzy and his body protested every movement with pain, but he could make out the steps he needed to take to get to the captain’s cabin. “I have to - agh, _fuck_ ,” he stopped, his ribs aching and lungs filling with air faster than they should.

He held onto the shelf nearby, leaning his weight against it as he gathered his breath. Ellie stepped in front of him, arms crossed and her bag thrown over her shoulder. He looked at her, the fear and unease in his mind unrelenting.

“I - I have to see her, Ellie.”

The expression on her face was one of amusement and reproach, but her eyes searched his and as they did, her temperament changed, a look of realization and… softness washing over her. She was quiet for a few moments, but when she did speak, her tone was kind and gentle.

“Okay.”

She offered him her arm, and gestured to the doorway. “Let me walk you up the stairs.”

Max didn’t argue, instead letting her wrap her arm around his back and underneath his shoulder. He draped his own across her shoulders, and Ellie held his wrist with her other hand as they took the path he had already mapped out in his mind.

It was a slow going process, each step bringing more agony to his muscles, but Max tried his damned hardest to ignore it. Nothing was more important in that moment than to see his captain safe and recovering. He would deal with his own issues when hers were taken care of.

“I still think you shouldn’t be walking. You need rest,” Ellie muttered, her eyes trained to the top of the stairs.

“I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really. I’m --” he coughed, a scratchy and dry sound. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Absolutely. Picture of health.”

“Shut up.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smirking.

They made their way to the top of the stairs and stepped into the threshold of the captain’s cabin. He stopped, the fear in his heart climbing again. Max wasn’t sure what he would see, and even though Ellie had already told him she was doing better, it didn’t set his mind at ease. He unwillingly pictured the worst possible outcome, something he desperately did not want to see.

Ellie caught his attention, and once again, her features softened. “She’s okay. If you want to see her, she’s less than a couple of steps away.”

Max cleared his throat, and nodded. 

He walked with her past the bed frame and stepped around the corner. Ellie withdrew her arm and let go of his wrist, letting him lean against the cabinets of the bed for support.

Law, she was so fucking _beautiful_. Almost all of the color returned to her cheeks and nose, pinkish and perfect. Red, full lips slightly parted in her sleep. Her bandages were rewrapped, and she was clothed in loose fitting shorts and an even looser shirt. Her hair had been washed, cascading down her pillow and barely spilling over the end of her bed. 

Max released a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding, and rested his body more comfortably on the bed frame. The fear he had felt prior left him, replaced with something he couldn’t describe other than… warm. 

Her wounds were still there, on her chest, arms, legs, and even one that ran the length of her face down to her neck, but they were hidden by bandages and cloth. Max couldn’t remember a time he had felt more relief, more of his worries being dashed by the second, his heart full and tension gone.

He was so entangled in his thoughts and enraptured by her, he had almost forgotten Ellie was there.

She had pulled the chair that was by the desk to the captain’s beside, and was standing by it, looking at him, studying him. When he returned her gaze, she pointed to the chair.

“I told you she was fine. Sit.”

Max obeyed and walked over to her, albeit a little cautiously after he left his position of support. He didn’t quite trust his legs yet, and after ignoring the pain for so long he definitely felt it now.

“I still have to wrap your burns. Are you going to let me this time?”

He smiled, for the first time in the past week. “I have no reason not to.”

They sat in silence for a while, as Ellie continued her work from downstairs, and he lifted his arm to keep out of her way. At times, the gauze was wrapped too tight and he winced, but made no mention of it aloud. He was simply grateful she was doing this for him at all.

Max watched the captain’s chest rise and fall with slow, steady breaths. “Thank you,” he said, his words quiet and soft.

He felt the wrapping of his arm pause. Ellie looked up, then turned her attention back to the bandages.

“You’re welcome.”

In a few minutes she was done, binding the wraps together and giving him the bottle of cream she so happily advertised. “Let me know if anything changes with her.”

He leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees, letting his hands fall between his thighs.

Max lost track of how long he stayed with her. It could’ve been minutes, hours, a whole night. Time wasn’t a concern of his anymore, and it was one of the worries he was glad to be rid of. Now, all he had to think about was when she would wake up. 

Perhaps it wasn’t necessary for him to sit beside her anymore, the danger gone and recovery possible. But there was a tug in his stomach, a desire to be with her, and he wasn’t able to ignore that pull. He knew it meant something - a feeling like this hadn’t risen within him in a very, very long time - but whatever it did mean, it wasn’t something he wanted to address at that point. It would require insight into his own mind, and may change the way he saw her forever. Not just gazing at her because her eyes were wide and innocent and easy to lose himself in. Or because her waist was small and he longed to wrap his arms around her and hold her close as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

No, fully recognizing what he felt for his captain would lead to more deeper desires. Ones about the future, and ones he couldn’t bring himself to think about, not yet.

Max took her hand in both of his, her skin no longer cold. He found the rough patch he knew so well and stroked his calloused thumb over it, something that brought him more comfort than he wanted to admit.

Exhaustion struck him, his sore body asking for rest. He almost gave in, lowering his head, but the hand he was holding lightly squeezed him back, and he glanced up again.

She was looking at him, her pupils all but overtaking her irises and her eyelashes covering the better part of her eyes.

“Max?”

Hearing his name caused his heart to stutter, and his thumb ceased to caress her hand. “Yes?”

“Do you have --” she coughed, a dry and harsh sound. She groaned and her eyebrows contorted in pain, holding her bandaged side with her other hand.

“Do you have a _fucking cigarette?”_


	5. Unreliable Sleep

_“Can you stay?” she had asked him, her voice hesitant._

_He didn’t know why she was nervous, when there was nothing else he would rather do. He couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from her, even for just a moment, in fear that she would no longer be there when he looked back. Possibly worse, that she would remain in her bed but the bandages would be torn and wounds still exposed, infection creeping from them. An emotion-driven and irrational thought, but one he was unable to shake._

_“Of course.”_

_She relaxed, the muscles in her hand easing off the pressure on his own._

_Their hands were still intertwined, and they had not let go of each other, nor was any mention of it made._

* * *

The captain had been asleep for some time now.

She was drifting in and out of consciousness for a couple of hours, eyelids slowly falling then fluttering open again. When she finally let her eyes close for more than a few minutes, he let go of her, not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t want any of his movements waking her.

While she slept, Max’s thoughts returned to the ones he had on Monarch. It still weighed on his mind, the hypothetical confession. The lies seemed so long ago, hardly a speck in the grand scheme of things, but he knew her need to help others would return when her strength did. 

If he was being honest with himself, he dreaded it. She was kind and trusting, but that was the problem. She had placed too much trust in him, and if he told her he would destroy it. If he waited until they found Chaney, his lies would still be unveiled and would equally shatter her trust.

_It doesn’t matter. She deserves to know, and I need to be the one to tell her._

His thoughts and the quiet room were occasionally interrupted as the other crew members shuffled in at different times for various minor reasons, and one major one - to check in on the captain.

Nyoka was first, to explain why it had taken so long, and brought a pack of cosmic smokes and spectrum vodka which now sat on the bar cart against the window. Felix came by with the radio and asked a couple of questions, scratching the back of his head at Max’s answers. Ellie was back to make sure Max was applying the lotion, and glared at him when he said “no”, accusing him of attempting to ruin her sawbones reputation.

SAM was no longer allowed in the cabin because of an incident with the feather duster.

Parvati visited last, bearing three mugs of tea. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration at the glasses, each step careful and slow as to not spill the tea on the floor. It wasn’t successful.

Max stood up, laying his hand on the back of their chair to support his still aching muscles, and reached out with his other hand, gesturing towards the precariously held mugs. “Let me help with that, Ms. Holcomb.”

She jerked her head up, eyes wide and consequently spilled even more tea onto the ground below. She looked back down, a slight frown pinching her brow. 

“Oh, lord, I’m just makin’ an absolute mess, aren’t I? All over Captain’s room, too,” she mumbled, staring at the spill that had splattered her boots. She seemed conflicted, wanting to clean it up, but unable to do so with her hands more than full.

“Here,” he said, walking over and relieving her of two of the mugs.

He set one down on the table beside the bed, and cupped the other one with both his hands. It was warm to the touch, and steam rose from it, bringing the faint scent of purpleberry to his nose.

“Thanks, Mr. Vicar,” she said, pulling out a rag from her overalls and bending down to clean up the mess.

He took a sip from his tea, the warm liquid soothing his dry throat. He could feel it going down and settling in his stomach, heat rising from his gut to his skin. “Thank you for the tea.”

“Well, it seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? With Captain bein’ all…” she trailed off, focusing intently on the nearly clean floor.

“It was kind of you to do so.”

The air was still in comfortable silence, except for the quiet buzz of the radio replaying a prior tossball match. Parvati cleaned up the remainder of the spilled tea and tucked the rag back into her pocket, lifting her mug from off the ground.

“It’s right difficult to see her like this, wrapped up and everything. Do you reckon there’s somethin’ else I can do? I’ve gotta regulate the heat output on the engine, but it can wait a few if there’s somethin’ she needs,” she said, darting her eyes between Max and the captain.

“No, it’s fine, Ms. Holcomb.”

“How ‘bout noodles? Captain likes noodles!” she said, suddenly excited at the prospect of doing something for the captain.

“Truly, it’s fi --” 

“I’ll go make some afore she wakes up, with cystipig and some saltuna and all the fixin’s,” she said, turning on her heel.

Parvati closed the door behind her, leaving only the noise of the radio, static mixed with the occasional broken words of scores and defense lines to fill the air. Max could’ve tuned it to the correct station, but he couldn’t find a mind to do so.

He watched the captain sleep, one hand tucked under her pillow and one resting above. _Would she forgive me?_ Her eyes moved behind her lids, a slight frown developing in her lips.

 _Do I deserve her forgiveness?_ The skin on her nose wrinkled as her brow clenched into a deeper state of unrest.

_I’ve spent so long searching for answers, looking for this book. Is it wrong to feel I’m owed something, even at the expense of another man’s life?_

She pulled her legs to her chest, creating more folds and creases in her shirt that framed her lithe body. _What if I never see her again?_

Max was so deep in thought, his mind bouncing between right and wrong, desire and anger, he almost missed the whimper that escaped her throat, fearful and pained.

She was gripping the pillow with her entire body, muscles in her arms taut, and fingers digging deep enough to make crevices in the stuffing. Knuckles white, eyes shut, and lips contorted in an expression of agony and fear. She cried out softly, and Max’s heart twisted, the need that he had become so familiar with these past few days arising again, the need to help, to keep her safe, even in her dreams.

She hadn’t had enough rest, only a few hours, and Max was hesitant to wake her. It seemed the nightmare wasn’t bad enough, but seeing the effect it had on her in reality didn’t eradicate the thought from his mind. He watched, helpless, as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and trickled onto the pillow below.

“No,” she whispered, shifting to her other side. “I don’t - I don’t want - to die.”

_Fuck._

She writhed, tossing and turning in her sheets, holding her stomach tight with her arms and legs. Her bandages were showing now, the movements in her sleep lifting her shirt to expose her stomach and slightly red wrappings underneath. Max looked on, watching her hands carefully as they now rested on the gauze.

“Please,” she begged, and the word punched him in his stomach.

Tears streamed freely now, red unevenly spreading across her cheeks and nose. Her fingers began to press into her bandages, nails scratching at the surface. He knew he had to do something, before she dug into her stitches and caused even more damage.

He leaned forward and laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Captain?” he asked.

“Don’t --” her voice was barely breaking the air around her, but her movements were more violent than before.

Her nails had successfully dug through the bandages, finding the stitches sewn into her skin and blood began to creep to the surface of the cloth. Max got out of the chair and sat on the edge of the bed, moving both of his hands to her wrists. He tried to pry her fingers away from her wounds, but she fought against him, twisting her arms and tears staining her cheeks, incoherent words forming on her lips. Her back arched and her legs kicked at the sheets, her toes curled and blankets tossed to the ground.

“Alex, wake up,” he pleaded, holding her arms at bay and softly squeezing her.

Her eyes snapped open. The fight in her drained as fresh tears trailed down her chin and her lungs took in and let out rapid breaths.

“I - I thought --” she swallowed, the fear tangible in her face.

“I know,” he said quietly, letting go of her.

“There were so many…” she stopped, sitting up in her bed. She held her head in her hands, fingers entangled in her hair. Max knew this was the first of many to come, and it broke his heart to see her so distraught, knowing this would be something she would have to live with. Sleepless nights, in fear of closing her eyes that she would relive the attack all over again. It wasn’t something he could fix, there were no mantiqueens to fight, no adreno to stop the pain, no raptidons to kill with feverous savagery.

It was just nightmares. And there was nothing Max could do about nightmares.

She cried, letting out all the fear and terror in gasping sobs. He reached out, touching her shoulder, wanting to provide any kind of comfort. Alex covered her face with her hands and leaned into his arm.

He wrapped his other arm around her back and pulled her close, not even thinking about it, and moved his other hand into her hair, holding the back of her head. It was gentle and loving, as he spread his fingers against the small of her back and caressed her.

She collapsed against him, forgoing all her strength and entrusting him to support her. She cried into his chest, her tears soaking his vestments and his own bandages.

“I thought I was - I thought they were going to kill me,” she said when she found the breath to speak. “It seemed so real, Max. I couldn’t - couldn’t run away, I was just standing there, frozen.”

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe now, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

As she rested her head on his chest, and his face was buried in her hair, he knew. He knew he wouldn’t be able to tell her about his lies, for Max was a selfish man, one who gave in to his desires and his emotions. And he would be damned if he would let anything come between them, Chaney or whatever the fuck else. 

He would be at her side for as long as she allowed him to be, because he knew that he loved her, even if he wasn’t able to admit it to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this did end up being more Max POV heavy than i first anticipated (that's what i get for not planning out my chapters after settling on the title and description), but the works i do have planned for the future will include Alex's perspective, along with her own motivations
> 
> i hope you enjoyed reading this and stay safe ♡


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